Science, Sorcery, and Alternate Realities
by Cafinatedangel13
Summary: These will range from one-shots to multi-chapters updated...eh whenever strikes my fancy. Everything from plausible to ridiculouse, if it could happen it probably will. Most, not all, will be Brooklyn/Maggie because they don't seem to have any stories.
1. Chapter 1

**Science, Sorcery, and Alternate Realities**

Often time is compared to a river, a single current flowing over itself irreversibly, constant, unchangeable. In the narrowest sense, this is true. For history has already happened and, therefore, cannot be changed. The future, inconstant and uncertain, will never exist. The choices we make in the here and now will create the past and give shape to the future.

But the universe is vast, _timeless_, and there are many Now's. Reality is a fragile fabric woven of the intertwining possibilities that twist together and fray apart. And sometimes, when the circumstances are just right, when it all could have gone this way or that, sometimes…they break.

These are the things that didn't happen, the 'what if's, the 'maybe's. These are the thoughts that creep and crawl in the back of the mind in those moments of crippling insecurity and doubt when one can't help but wonder, "What if I had done this differently…"

Or perhaps they _did _happen. The universe is vast and the possibilities are endless. And in the timeless eyes of infinity all are merely possibilities.

The universe doesn't play favorites. 

_More often than not, it is the smallest of things that break the thread and twist off into another version of events. A butterfly flapping its wings in China is not likely to cause a hurricane across the world, but it may incite a series of events that will make it seem so. Similarly, a single word here, one step forward, a step to the right, does not always change the world, but your personal world may be another story all together…_

"I'm not like these others," Maggie insisted slowly, watching the well-dressed older gentleman with thinly veiled desperation in her eyes. Until just a few moments ago, Maggie would have believed that 'gentlemen' had long since become extinct along with proper ladies in long corseted dresses and grand balls with princes and kings. But this man with his nice brown hat and long gray coat, with white gloved fingers resting on a beautifully carved antique cane, was the classic image of a gentleman right down to the snowy white ascot and shiny black shoes. She wondered what he could possibly doing in this part of town.

"Of course you're not," he soothed, his lightly accented voice overly warm and dripping honey as a too-friendly smile curled onto his pale, slightly aged face. "I can see that."

That smile made her nervous. She had grown up in a small town, where such smiles were not so common, but she had always been intelligent, intimidatingly so to some, even if she sometimes lacked the common sense to make her brains worthwhile. She knew what that smile was likely to mean…

But beggars can't be choosers, and indeed her choices were slim.

"I haven't been in New York long," she explained looking away and pulling her slowly deteriorating shawl tighter around her neck. Her fist clenched the worn, faded fabric slightly in determination as a familiar fire sparked, albeit somewhat more dimly than it used to, in her dark brown eyes, and she scrambled and clung to the stubborn pride she'd been raised with, "This is just a _temporary_ set-back."

This time her own voice was strong, defiant, and she looked right at this strange man, wondering the streets in all his finery in the middle of the night, with his sinister smile and honey dipped voice, and dared him to tell her otherwise.

"As it happens I need a temporary assistant!" he informed her jovially, spreading his arms wide in pleasure and invitation. He hobbled a little closer and placed a friendly arm across her shoulders, that double edged smile widening almost forebodingly along his lips. "Easy work, it pays well, plus…" he paused just long enough to turn her about, setting the homeless men and women gathered around small garbage-bin fires in a weak and often failed attempt to stave off the winter night's biting cold suddenly back within her line of sight. To remind her she had already hit the bottom, anything else could only be up. "Much nicer surroundings than these."

"Well," she hesitated, alarm bells sounding loudly in her head. This man was dangerous. She could not put a name or an image with it, but she knew, _knew_ it to be true. His arm felt cold and heavy on her shoulder, and he smelled of chemicals and salt and copper. All her senses were suddenly heightened in the survival instinct that had lasted through all generations of humanity; a predator was near.

But the wind blew again, stinging her face and tugging at her long, dirty, greasy hair. The others gathered closer to their fires, and she pictured herself over there. Cold and alone with no way out.

She looked back at the man. His was smile sharp and pleased like a cat who'd just finished playing with the mouse and was moving in for the kill. The worst had already happened; she'd already hit the bottom. She'd already been robbed of her dreams, her _pride_, and he couldn't take anything from her that she hadn't already lost.

"What would I have to do?" The question was cursory and they both knew it. She hadn't even finished her sentence before allowing him to lead her out of the alley.

How much time had passed? Hours, days, Maggie wasn't certain; there was fire in her veins and she could feel her bones twist and snap as they melted and solidified; shrinking and elongating, sliding and repositioning themselves beneath her skin. And her skin, her _skin_ was fevered and clammy, sweat dripping from every inch as her body worked to bring the temperature down, fought valiantly, and vainly, against whatever was in that injection Dr. Sevarious, had forced into her veins. A burning itch spread across her hot, slick flesh, and it wasn't until her throat burned just as fiercely, dry and raw, that she realized she was screaming.

Her arms wrapped themselves around her middle as her insides shifted and squirmed, and she curled in on herself screeching around her abused throat and crying useless tears because she didn't know what else to do as she realized that perhaps she'd had something left to lose after all.

"Just breathe, child." She would never forget that voice, lightly accented and dripping honey; it would haunt her dreams. "The pain will pass."

But she hardly heard it. There was fire in her veins. 

The sound was terrible; the kind of throaty, growling roar that chills the blood and raises the hairs on the back of one's neck, eyes suddenly darting from corner to corner as every shadow becomes dangerous and threatening. It took Maggie a full two minutes to realize it came from her.

The reflection in the glass was…inhuman, frightening and grotesque. Soft yellow, cat-like eyes set high above delicate canines the size of her little finger peeking out over lips pulled back in a horrified grimace. Small, triangular ears pivoted back and forth with the slightest of sounds above a face that was suddenly too long and narrow, a wild mane of red-blond hair swept over and around slight, narrow shoulders, and a thick, golden-tan coat of fur dusted over everything. A pair of oversized leathery wings sprouted from those shoulders, translucent and stretched taughtly over three long, finger-thin bones, like some kind of fallen angel desperate to once again taste the sky.

Maggie clenched a fist, long slender fingers tipped with wicked claws and lightly dusted with that soft brown fur, and let lose a second roar of despair and disbelief.

The sound rocked the lab assistant assigned to her back on his heels and neither of them really understood what was happening when her arm swung out of its own accord, knocking the tray of food and drink he'd brought for her out of his hands. The clatter of metal and wet splatter of potatoes hitting the wall hardly registered, though the sounds rang quite loudly in her new, more sensitive ears. Even the shrill screech of the angry alarm seemed fuzzy and far away.

Maggie couldn't think, couldn't breathe, but her body reacted to her blind panic. The strong, flexible muscles of her legs tensed, pulling themselves taught for a heartbeat before launching her in a graceful, if slightly chaotic, leap directly at the young, ill prepared doctor who barely managed to dodge her springing form in time, and she hit the door with the full force of her body. Stronger and more sturdy, the impact knocked door clean out of the wall, slamming into another scientist, sprawling him out on the floor beneath it, and keeping him there.

But it didn't even jar Maggie who simply sprang back to her feet with a grace and agility she'd never possessed before, and then she was running. Her arm once again exerted its own power as she shoved another scientist who made the mistake of trying to get between her and the door roughly into the wall, hardly even feeling the resistance of the woman's stationary body.

She fell to all fours as soon as she hit concrete; her stride increasing, breaths coming in rapid gasps as she moved. She didn't know where she was going, hadn't thought of anything but the blind all consuming _need_ get away, away, away, _away_. She was sure that if she just kept running, if she ran fast and far enough, she could escape.

But what chased her was her own reflection, and even now she couldn't out-run that.

Perhaps it was thought catching up to her that prompted the sharp pivot on the very tips of her toes, the palms of her hands flat against the rough, cracked asphalt, into the quiet, out-of-the-way side alley where she was unlikely to be seen or followed, though more likely it was exhaustion. Her muscles, her very bones, were sore and screamed in protest with every step. She couldn't even hear the continuous shrieks of _Run, run, run, run, run, run…_over her own raged breathing and the angry beat of her demanding heart.

But she hadn't considered anything past escape, and now that she had she didn't know what to do with herself. The streets and back-allies were familiar and no more or less welcoming than they had always been…perhaps, somewhere beneath the swirling, screaming cacophony of _Run_, and _Not real, not happening_, and_, Gotta get away, away, away, away…_she had believed if she just curled up beside the dumpster and fell asleep like she had for so many weeks, maybe everything would be as it had been.

But when she stood to get her bearings the wind picked up, the previously still night air rushing through the cluttered alley, discarded papers and old candy wrappers rustling and crinkling as they took flight.

Their wings pulled back with a sharp snapping sound, filling with the up-rushing air and overtaking gravity as they landed, a grace and fluidity in their movements that follows only experience.

The first was built like a bull, easily clearing six feet and bulky. Not fat or even pudgy exactly but thick, sturdy. His skin was a strange light blue-green, the color of mint and sea and sky, and his wings, likely longer from tip to tip than the alley was wide, were a rich green so deep it was nearly black. His face was…child-like, all rounded angles and baby fat with no hair to obscure those features. Three small horns, rounded like everything else about the creature, lined the center of his bald head leading back to the base of his skull set between to long, almost fin-like ears.

His companion was a near perfect contrast. Standing with his shoulders hunched slightly forward, curving his spine like bow, and his knees bent in semi-crouch cost him at least half a foot, making him appear significantly smaller than the other creature, though they were likely equal in height. He was not bulky or sturdy like his companion, slender in fact, almost wiry, but clearly no less solid, and Maggie imagined running into this creature was probably similar to running into a brick wall. His skin, as if echoing such thoughts, was a pale brick red, tapering into a red-gold sheen across dark, translucent wings with a span no shorter than the first. His face was long and angled into a pronounced, but somehow fitting beak with two long, pointed horns, each set just to the inside of a pointed, elfin ear, curving back over a thick mane of silvery white hair that fell all the way to his waist.

Both had four fingered hands, each tipped with wicked talons that made her own seem more akin to safety pins, and spread, paw-like feet. Two sets of fangs reflected the poor alley light, and she could just make out a pair of long reptilian tails behind them. They were dressed similarly, both in a loincloth held in place by a somewhat old-fashioned black belt and brass buckle. And both had seemed agitated, angry even, as they began their descent from on high, but their attitudes and postures had quickly switched to confusion as her eyes widened in terror and she took one long stride back, her hands coming up before her in defense.

"That's not Demona." The big one observed, his voice a deep rumble swirling around the same soft, child-like edge as the rest of his features.

"Get away from me!" she demanded, barely aware of the way her voice shook, let alone its new rough edges and growling tones.

"No, don't be afraid," the smaller one soothed in a low rumble, almost a purr, his own hands coming up with palms spread openly in the universal gesture of submission and reassurance. "We won't hurt you." A cautious step forward, hands spread and empty, held clearly where she could see them, placed him almost directly in front of her. "Sorry about the entrance, we thought you were someone else."

Curiosity flooded her system with enough force to drown out her rapidly mounting terror enhanced by the weariness that had already settled across her right down to her bones. That reflection in the glass, that shadow lurking in every corner of her mind, was flashing behind her eyes with frightening clarity and her mouth was moving before her mind really considered the words, "Who could you _possibly _mistake _me_ for?"

Neither was given the chance to answer as the shrill scream of sirens pierced the otherwise quiet atmosphere. Flashing red lights bathed the dark alley in bloody twilight, and the two big, white Genutech vans that suddenly blocked its mouth could have been ambulances were it not for the trademarked white 'G' materializing against a plain of black branding their left sides. Four scientists spilled out of the vehicles, stalking toward her and the two creatures with a practiced 'V'-like formation, each armed with a gun filled with potent tranquilizers or a mild, but certainly effective, stun-gun.

"There she is!"

"But she's not alone?"

"Tranq them all," the leader, the head of the formation, instructed. "Let the doc sort 'em out."

And then it seemed the time for talking had passed; the alley was suddenly congested with flying darts and crackling electricity as the scientists opened fire.

The alley provided little cover, but the sparseness didn't seem to faze the two creatures, the big one clearing more than half the alley with three long, quick strides and seeking refuge behind the dumpster to the left side.

Maggie's mind, however, was elsewhere, lost amid a sea of adrenalin and panic. She was _aware_ of her surroundings, of the loud popping of each gun, short and abrupt in quick succession like a string of firecrackers, of the sharp, salty-sweet tang of smoke and adrenalin and fear that hung over the alley like heavy perfume, of every spark, every dust molecule floating on the charged air. But her brain refused to process the information, not yet accustomed to such keen senses, made all the sharper by the blood now singing in her veins, and not prepared to interpret the intense barrage of sight and scent and sound.

"Bad neighborhood."

She felt a scream bubble in her chest, felt it tearing and clawing at her throat when a strong, taloned hand clamped firmly around her wrist. But the voice that accompanied that grip had been the same smooth, growling baritone that had promised not to hurt her.

Dr. Sevarius had _hurt_ her.

She didn't know if this…creature _could_ help her, but she was certain that he was trying. And she _needed_ that certainty in a world where she was suddenly certain of very little.

The grip was rough, as was the sudden jerk forward that not long ago would have ripped her arm right out of its socket, but the hand was gentle, and she had no doubt that, if she tried, she could pull herself free…

Maggie swallowed her screams and didn't fight the sudden jab of forward momentum that had her stumbling toward him.


	2. Chapter 2

She could feel his wing against her shoulders, though he did not touch her save the strong, firm grip on her wrist. But it draped around her like a cloak, the strong skin, stretched so thinly it was nearly sheer, a whispery barrier between her and the torrent of darts and electricity beginning to coat the alley floor and walls. Her new, sharper eyes could pick out the thousands of tiny capillaries winding and criss-crossing through the taught, elastic flesh, and the heat those vestals carried radiated through her own skin, all the way down to her marrow. She breathed it in, wrapped herself in the certainty and the warmth that focused her fragile, scattered thoughts, and, though still unaccustomed to this new body, still clumsy and awkward with limbs suddenly too long and sinewy, too powerful and graceful, she matched his long, hurried stride as they darted across the alley and joined the other creature behind his own, more solid, barrier.

Her tongue felt heavy and woolen in her mouth as she did her best to imitate their defensive crouched position, the blood suddenly frigid and thick in her veins as she realized just how naturally the foreign stance came to her. Her knees bent instinctively, feet spread wide in preparation to spring in the direction of her choosing. Her spine curved easily, keeping her forward and low, a difficult target in a perfect sleek and agile position promising speed if it came to running. Her hands came up in front of her, palms out and claws spread wide, protecting her vulnerable stomach and chest as her ears swiveled and jumped in time with the scientists' rapid footfalls as opposed to the more prominent resounding explosions and popping of their guns. Her muscles coiled and flexed easily beneath her skin as her spine swerved just a fraction to the left then right, her upper body swaying ever so slightly, like a cobra, keeping her perfectly balanced.

It was too easy, too natural, and she didn't care at all for what that might imply.

But it suited the situation. So she forced herself to disregard those thoughts, and threw her attention into the moment.

The sour, acrid scent of smoke and scorched metal was sharp, stinging her nose and blurring her vision, but even beneath the new veil of salty water she could still see every dart as it streaked through the smoky air, far more quickly than her eyes should have been able to follow. But the details were perfect, the little sparks that jumped from each barrel seconds after a finger squeezed a trigger, the faint tail of smoke trailing each dart…As if the air itself had suddenly become thick and soupy. It seemed as though they would have an eternity to move.

Maggie closed her eyes and inhaled deeply to remind herself that they didn't.

Just to her right and several paces in front of her, the bigger creature crouched in a similar fashion against the dumpster. His spine curled almost imperceptibly, his form hunching more at the waist, keeping him angled and low. His knees bent sharply, putting him nearly level with the asphalt, both hands rested against the cold, rusting metal and held him steady as he carefully peered around side. His wings were spread but pinned close to his shoulders in thin folds of skin and bone.

His glance was cursory, an instinctive glimpse tossed over his shoulder in a movement so slight it hardly registered at all. His dark eyes grazed over them, for his companion had not left her side, and with a thud of her pulse her own eyes were on his back again. But it had been enough for Maggie to note the calm concern that marked his features, eyes wide and fixed, the slightest hints of a frown tugging at his lips, making the two needle sharp fangs that jutted up from his jaw stark and prominent against his upper lip. His brow furrowed in concentration and those same eyes, wide and unblinking, glittered with determined fire and possibilities. Maggie suspected this was not the first time he had been backed into such a corner and did not doubt his ability to find his way out.

The wing around her shoulders flexed suddenly and she was stunned by the strength that flowed through such a seemingly fragile limb as it swept her nearly off her feet and pushed her into the creature's side. His arms were ready for her, however, and though she stumbled, she did not fall.

The muscles of his abdomen and upper torso were thick and solid, just as she had imagined, and she suspected the scruffy, tangled mess of tan fur that covered her body was suddenly hiding an impressive set of dark black brusises along her left shoulder all the way to her hip. The pain was faint, however, muted by the adrenalin singing in her veins, and infinatly preferable to the white-blue current of electricity crackling and dancing through the space she had so recently occupied. A cursory glance of her own revealed the scorched smoking metal, the thousands of tiny excited sparks jumping and popping as the electricity grazed the top of the dumpster, the green creature flat and perfectly still against the asphalt watching the blast, dark eyes wide with fright and fascination.

The brilliant stream of electricity, however, fled from a relatively small handheld stun-gun designed, as it's name would imply, to incapacitate-not to kill-a close-range target. The jolt it could deliver would be painful; Maggie could imagine with little effort the way her muscles would spasm and stiffen erratically if such a jolt found her, but the weapon simply did not have the power to hold a powerful or continuous current, and within moments the flare had faded, a scorched, smoking scar at the lip of the dumpster and the heated, thick scent of plasma, the air alive and exploding with the expended energy, were the only remnants of its presence.

Even so, it wouldn't take long for the gun to build up another charge, and their tranquilizer supply seemed endless. The sight of the their target quarantined in a corner with no visible means of escape seemed to have given the scientists confidence, their approach becoming less cautious, the darts pushing forward with greater speed as distance disappeared between them.

She was not alone in her observation. "We gotta get outta here!" the green one rumbled, a statement so painfully obvious the words didn't make sense. But Maggie remembered a high, wordless shriek, that had also served no purpose, scraping and tearing at her vocal cords because she didn't know what else to do. And saying _something_, no matter how useless, was better than saying nothing at all.

The creature beside her didn't miss a beat, "I'm open to suggestions." The smooth baritone of his voice purred up from deep within his chest, and Maggie, pinned so closely to his side, _felt_ every word he said. It was different, however, than the few words he'd spoken to her. Rougher, she supposed, less guarded, and tainted with a sarcastic, teasing tone that reminded her of laughter around the dinner table and tag after dark.

The comment, by intention or coincidence-Maggie hadn't spent nearly enough time with the pair to even begin to make a guess-had the desired effect. The green one looked thoughtfully at the dumpster for a long moment before twisting his upper body to watch the scientists, their strict 'V' formation rapidly stalking down the center of the alley, fanning out and clogging the narrow passage. His eyes darted quickly to key points of the alley, the length, the walls, the roof-tops, finally coming to rest back on the dumpster in front of him.

And then he was up, palms open and pressed against the side of the dumpster, feet planted firmly and wings spreading wide as his shoulders tensed in preparation, "Help me with this."

Maggie felt a shiver uncoil in the pit of her stomach and quickly spread to all her limbs, felt it prickle beneath her scalp, saw it trembling through her fingertips, felt it shudder down to her toes, as he moved to join his companion against the dumpster, the veil of heat that had flooded her system lingering for only a heartbeat before chasing after him. The night air was suddenly hard and cold around her, and she was grateful for the cotton in her mouth that stifled the tiny, miserable whimper she could feel sitting on her lips.

Their movements were simultaneous and smooth, born of a lifetime a familiarity and the ability to anticipate how the other would react before any conscious conclusions were reached. She watched the muscles in their backs grow stiff, joints locking rigidly as the muscles in their shoulders began to flex and ripple. The tendons in their legs pulled themselves taught as they both _heaved_. Eyes closed and jaws locked with quiet grunts of effort as the force transferred from their bodies to the dumpster and the laws of physics had no choice but to comply with their wishes.

The careening dumpster accomplished its goal, breaking the scientists' formation and scattering them to the sides of the alley. Maggie watched with wide eyes as the green creature followed in its wake. He ran with his whole body, palms slamming into the rough asphalt, shoulders tensing and flexing as they absorbed the impact. His back curved and stretched with each stride before curling back in on itself as his legs caught up with his hands, shooting him forward impossibly fast.

At the moment the dumpster collided with the front of the van at mouth of the alley, the muscles in his legs tensed so tightly she worried they would snap. Without warning they uncoiled as he leaped, landing, upright once again, with a heavy _thud_ on the top of the dumpster. His wings spread to their full length, the dark, thin membrane stretching and snapping with the slight breeze, their tips brushing against each crumbling wall. The tendons tensed again, less dramatically this time, as he sprang, the roof of the van bowing with the force of his landing. Those magnificent wings beat down hard once as he leapt a final time, catching the cold night air and bearing him upward. Before any of the scientists had managed to regain his bearings, the winds had carried him above the rooftops and far out of sight.

But Maggie had finally found a firm grasp in the situation and her own reaction was far quicker. She launched herself forward with one powerful leap, so desperate to cover the distance between them before he too was swallowed into the night sky, that scrambling forward with one foot in front of the other was not fast enough. Her feet had hardly hit the ground beside him before both hands clasped themselves around his arm, gripping it so tightly her fingers began to tingle as circulation slowed.

He jerked upward in surprise, and at his full height he was about a head taller than she was. He blinked down at her, confusion obvious in his features. "I can't _do_ that," she told him, eyes wide with panic.

His reaction was instant, spilling into a low crouch with his back to her, his wings wrapping themselves around his shoulders to make room for her, "Get on."

Maggie felt her jaw grow slack as her mind struggled to catch his train of thought. These creatures were strong, mythically so, and moved with a natural agility she'd never seen equaled. The laws of physics, however, simply did not support the image of him making a similar escape if he had to carry her, which was ridiculous at best.

But beggars can't be choosers, and she'd already run out of choices.

Her arms locked around his neck, fingers interweaving together beneath his beak, almost without her conscious consent. Her body didn't understand her scattered, conflicted thoughts, but it understood panic, and it understood escape. Instinct overrode indecision, dragging her along behind.

Her concerns proved both valid and unfounded because he didn't even try to follow his companion with such and awkwardly balanced burden. Instead he turned to the elderly wall beside them, gouging the crumbling bricks with those fiercely sharpened talons, and lifted them off the ground with one quick jerk.

Maggie's eyes squeezed shut reflexively, and a small, startled gasp lost itself in a sea of silvery white hair as the ground fell away, her feet dangling uselessly beneath her. She recovered quickly, however, once again swallowing her initial fear and disorientation and instead tried to make herself useful.

At first she tried to keep her grip looped loosely around his neck as his hands methodically passed over each other, talons pausing briefly to bite into the soft brick before pushing them steadily upward, for fear of choking him, but she quickly realized it was not likely to be a problem because of the manner in which he carried her. Her arms wrapped around his neck, yes, but he held her weight with his shoulders, thickened by muscles accustomed to carrying his own weight through thin air; they didn't even twitch under hers.

Swallowing hard, she allowed her grip to tighten until her limbs shook with the effort. Her legs hitched themselves up closer to his waist to try to keep them out of his way, but her wings swayed and flapped semi-interferingly with even the slight breeze that rustled the papers and candy wrappers on the alley floor below them. There was nothing she could do about that though, they weren't long enough to drape around her shoulders like his did, and, even if they had been, they were still too new and unused for such easy manipulations. But they folded against her back easily under the gentle pressure of his own as they flared out behind them, obscuring her from the scientists view as they scrambled to get their feet beneath back beneath them.

"What are they-"

"Straight up the wall!"

"We lost the other one!"

"Never mind the males!" The leader reprimanded his scattered group, "If we get them great, but we cannot go back to the lab without _her_."

The words were quick and vague, laced with surprise and rising anxiety as the prospect of failure became increasingly realistic. But they plucked certain strings wound tightly in the forefront of Maggie's mind, and she began to consider the creature she clung to through different eyes.

Surly there were obvious differences, his build and appearance were more reptilian in nature while her own were distinctly feline. His skin was thick and strong but smooth, warm and soft beneath her fingers like worn leather, un-obscured or hidden by a coat of fur. His wings were long and soft, reminding her of velvet or suede, not stiff and leathery like her own. The corded muscles that coiled and expanded beneath her had been hardened over time and use not synthetically grown in a lab.

But did any of that _mean_ anything? Really, when cut to the quick? And how much did it matter either way? "Were you human once too?"

"No." The word was short and flat but not abrupt or insulted, the verbal equivalent of a shrug.

"Well, I'm human. I'm not…_like_ this-" There had been more to her rapidly mounting tirade, she was certain of that, but whatever it was died quickly in her throat.

The sound was terrible, as ancient and reverberating as the boom of thunder or the crash of the sea. There was no trace of the soft gravely voice she had associated with that underlying baritone. This was not the throaty roar of a jungle cat, nothing like the deadly screech of a diving raptor, certainly nothing a human throat had ever released, though, if pressed she would have likened it to a combination there of. Distinctly unique, hauntingly familiar, it shook Maggie to the core.

But the tone was not aggressive; there was no underlying current of anger. It wasn't a roar of challenge or warning, she realized, it was a cry of pain. One of the scientists had likely just ensured his continued employment for the foreseeable future.

But Maggie didn't allow herself to consider such implications beyond the most superficial level. Because his muscles grew slack beneath her, and the crumbling bricks and dusty mortar were slowly beginning to blur across her vision. The high shriek of the building was loud and piercing in her ears as those wicked talons gored dry rivers deeply into the surface in his refusal to let go. Sheer stubborness alone held them against that wall; there was no time for thought, only action.

Her right arm shot out with surprising speed while her left twined itself more tightly in place. Her claws bit easily into the ancient stone, the grating screech every bit as invacive as nails on a chalkboard as her fingers flexed, gripping the wall's steep surface in handfuls. Her legs untangled themselves from his waist, squeezing tightly to him with her knees, and the new, thick claws that tipped each of her toes proved their worth as they too clung and grasped at the wall. Dust and dirt mixed with blood frayed skin as rock splinters piled beneath her claws, prying between the strong nails and flesh, bigger pieces tearing tiny cuts into the still soft skin of her fingers. But the adrenlin that continued to taint her blood numbed the pain, making it easy to ignore as she dug her claws in deeper.

The friction that burned and bloodied her hands had the desired effect, gradually slowing their decent to a skidding, dangling halt. But it wasn't enough, and they both knew it

They hadn't fallen _far_, their combined efforts had caught them after only a few feet, and his pace had been steady, quick even. The only delay had been the brief pause with each pass of his hand to allow his talons to gouge deep wounds into the old brick, creating a firm handhold where the surface had been solid. But the weathered brick was soft, giving way easily beneath his fingers, and he was strong and quick. The scientists' few moments of broken concentration and disorientation had placed them nearly within reach of the outer ledge. 'Spitting distance', her grandmother used to say.

But the scientists had been well prepared. The cocktail of chemicals filling each dart was potent and fast-acting, already his actions were groggy and sluggish. Each movement seemed to require more effort than the last, as if his limbs were too heavy to lift.

Once…twice…

Maggie could practically see the world swim before his eyes. The building drifting in and out of focus dizzyingly as he tried to discern where his hand should fall.

Three…four…spitting distance…

They were going to fall. He faltered. His fingers flexed and clutched, grasping at the air, talons barely scraping the crumbling brick, arms slowly going slack, grip slipping…

But they didn't. The world was dark above the street lights, their glow angled downward to illuminate the ground, but her new eyes were sharp, able to adapt to the shadows and make use of the weak rays of light her old eyes would not have found. She recognized that strange color, frosted green, like ice over the sea. The hand that went with that color was big, four thick fingers that easily circled his wrist and overlapped, and, gripping the appendage with force enough to bruise jerked upward, literally dragging them the last foot or so up the building.

They landed in a painful, tangled knot on the just over the ledge of building.

They landed inelegantly in a jumbled heap just inside the ledge of the rook, their legs tangled together in a painful knot. Maggie's knuckles and elbows were torn and bleeding, patches of fur ripped out in messy, painful chunks along her wrists and forearms. The creature's whole front was covered by a worrying, bloody brush burn that Maggie sincerely hoped looked worse than it was. But they hadn't fallen, and that, overall, was worth it.

The big creature offered little of the gentleness his companion had allotted her. His hand locked around her upper arm just below the socket in grip like iron and she was certain she would later be able to trace the individual rings of his fingers beneath the shaggy growth of fur. But his actions weren't intentionally rough, even as he wrenched her to her feet, punctuating the movement with a hard shove into the deeper shadows sheltered by the small alcove where the stairwell led back inside the building, so much as…hurried. He handled his injured companion with equal gruffness, half-dragging his groggy form beside her into the shadows. As they crept back into the wall, she decided his actions were dictated by necessity and perhaps a touch of desperation for which he likely hoped to ask permission later. And in any even, this new form could cope with a little rough handling and this was neither the time nor the place to discus personal courtesies.

A soft sound, quiet and leathery, like a flag billowing in the wind, tickled the fine hairs inside her ears as two sets of wings suddenly engulfed her. The inside layer, whispery red, spread across from her left, the smaller creature stretching the corresponding appendage so it shielded them both from sight. The outer layer, green so dark if could have been black, spread from the right as the bigger creature copied the action.

"Just don't move," the red creature cautioned softly, voice low and thick with sleep.

"Hit the light!"

Now I promised myself I wasn't going to leave you with any serious clifhangers since I really don't plan on updating this often, but this chapter has been particularly problematic for me, especially transition-wise, and, frankly, I'm sick of looking at it. I'll try not to take so long with the next chapter. Note the word 'try', it's important.


End file.
